Krumbs!
by Sabriel Black
Summary: Hermione and Viktor have finally got it together but is everyone as satisfied as people might at first expect?rnrnI have been told by a friend who does this regularly to mention that I am a HDr - Hermione and Draco pairer. Expect to see some of this ;)
1. Default Chapter

Fan Fiction 

It was a beautiful morning. The birds were singing. The sun was doing its best to shine through the lilac lace curtains. Something zoomed at high speed past the window…

"Eh? That can't be right." Thought Hermione, forcing herself into a state of consciousness. She sat up, leaning back with her palms supporting her weight. When this gave no further clues as to the origin of the noise, she rocked forwards and pulled apart the curtains.

The sun tried desperately for a moment to warm the face of Hermione but failed miserably and quickly faded away.

Hermione looked around. _What was making that strange noise?_

WHUMPH!

Hermione recoiled back instinctively, as the window pane seemed to be deciding whether to collapse or not. It apparently decided it liked being a window pane and promptly remained doing so.

The blur stopped and something that Hermione had taken for a rather strangely coloured cloud stood up and spoke to her.

"Hermy-oh-ninny," crooned the voice. "Did I vake you?"

It was Viktor. Viktor Krum; Hermione's boyfriend who also happened to play international quidditch.

"No, I was just coming out to watch you play myself Viktor," replied Hermione as she desperately tried to rearrange her face into something that was usually considered human.

Hermione grimaced as she saw how, once again, one small comment from herself had lit up the Bulgarian's manly face. Hermione gave a rather weak smile before excusing herself to get dressed.

"Okay Hermy-oh-ninny. Don't vorget my beeg game."

"What?" said Hermione, very offhandishly as she tried, for the second time to close the curtains on her boyfriend.

"My beeg game. Eet's today. You haven't vorgotten have you?" said Krum, looking crestfallen.

Suddenly Hermione remembered. Of course, today was the day that Bulgaria played the Isle of White at Quidditch. Obviously, Krum would be playing and Hermione had been feigning excitement for weeks.

"Oh. Sorry… darling," winced Hermione as she used one of the adjectives she had mocked not a month before. "Of course I remembered!" Hermione hoped that her voice didn't sound too guilt-ridden.

For a moment it looked like Krum, for the first time, would not believe Hermione's attempt at a cover-up. A huge smile broke across his face and Hermione knew she was in the clear.

Hermione closed the curtains (for the third time) and this time her boyfriend's head did not appear between them. Sighing a sigh of relief, Hermione surveyed her room for something suitable to wear. The clothes that she had left out last night caught her eye and she struggled into them.

She pulled the scarlet dress (a tribute to Krum's colours) over her head and wriggled frantically, persuading her curves to rearrange themselves.

Half an hour later came a knock at the door.

"Hermy-oh-ninny. Are you neerly ready?" called Krum.

"Yes. Be right there." Came the reply.

Both Krum and Hermione reached for the door at the same time. Just as Krum was about to push it open, the door was pulled from under his fingers and he lost his balance, falling on top of Hermione.

"Hermy-oh-ninny" cried Krum "Are you okay?"

"Get……off……me," panted Hermione as all the air was crushed from her lungs.

Krum pulled her to her feet with such force that she very nearly went careering into the open wardrobe opposite. Krum then proceeded to look into Hermione's eyes before crushing her once again with a bone-rattling embrace.

"You look… like an angel," said Krum, stunned.

It was true, since Hermione had started dating one of the wizarding world's most eligible bachelors and handsome young men she had had to make an effort with her appearance. It would not do to be seen in public with her usually comfy muggle clothes.

Although Hermione appreciated this change she did not like it. For instance, it annoyed her when going down to the local shop to buy some milk to 20 minutes to get ready for.

However, today, she really had made an effort. The scarlet dress clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her cleavage and hiding her thighs. Her feet were balanced inside black lace-up stilettos. Around her head, he golden hair fell in soft curls – it was easy to see why Krum may have mistaken her for an angel.

"Shall we be going then Viktor?" asked Hermione tentatively, still trying to encourage her blocked airway to allow air passage.

Krum nodded and finally let go of Hermione. She let out and gasp of stale air before following Krum up the driveway, and onward to his big game.

Outside the stadium, they were forced to part.

"I vill be playing vor you," said Krum, sombrely.

"Thank you Viktor, you will do very well I'm sure. See you soon," called back Hermione, trying to sound affectionate.

She was having trouble relating to Krum's affections and often consulted her good friend, Harry on the matter:

"_Oh Harry I don't know what to do. He's just so… in your face."_

"_But you love him right?"_

"_Well yes of course I do just…"_

"_What?"_

"_Oh I don't know."_

"……"

"……"

"_Have you snogged him yet?"_

"_Harry! I am not going to tell you things like that. The press would have a field day…"_

"_Wait. We're talking about you and Ron here right?"_

"_IS HE ALL YOU THINK ABOUT? Ugh. Why are boys so….. infuriating?"_

"_I dunno but if we're not talking about Ron what are we….. Hermione?"_

_dialling tone_

"_Hermione?"_

These thoughts had carried Hermione right up to the top box, where relatives/partners of the players and stinking rich people sat. Provided the previous comment had passed through her head, she should not have been surprised to see one particular person there. Unfortunately, she WAS surprised and very nearly fell back down the stairs.

Glancing around the stadium with a face of contempt was none other than Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter Two

"Okay Hermione, breathe…" muttered Hermione under her breath. "Just breathe, breathe and carry on walking…" It was at that last thought that Hermione realised that she had actually stopped dead in the middle of the stairs leading up to the top box and her chin seemed to be in danger of dragging along the very same stairs.

And then, Hermione saw in slow motion, Draco turn to face her (obviously trying to catch a glimpse of what other people were now pointing and laughing at). Hermione also saw in slow motion, Draco's face contort into surprise and then something Hermione had never seen on Draco's face before: relief. Relief and was that a trace of tenderness?

Just as Hermione was looking at him quizzically, the strange emotion riddling Draco's face was masked as if by a shadow of contempt and hatred. As this snapped Hermione back to reality she realised that she was still standing in the middle of the stairs and was in danger of missing the pre-game entertainment.

Hurriedly, she sidled into her seat (thankfully an aisle seat) and settled back to watch the Bulgarian and Isle of White mascots prance around. It did not escape Hermione's notice that she was almost directly in front of Draco. From the look on his face, it had not escaped his notice either.

However, Hermione had not noticed this because the Bulgarian mascots had just walked onto the pitch. They were, of course, the acclaimed Veela. As Hermione stuffed her fingers in her ears so she didn't have to listen to their wailing, she gazed around the stadium and sighed as she saw almost every single male in the stadium drooling, entirely captivated. In fact, the only male that didn't seem to be captivated by the Veela was Draco who was staring, equally open-mouthed and drooling, but at Hermione instead.

A few minutes later, the Veela stopped their singing/screeching (to many boos from the crowd) and exactly 143 small balls of what seemed to be glowing fibre glass flew round the goals, diving in and out of the hoops. They were Feewups – the Isle of White mascots. As well as being incredibly cute, they also arranged themselves into a variety of different shapes, with different combinations of their number lit up.

After the Feewups had made a rather vulgar gesture at the Bulgarian end, the players walked out. First was Dimitrov, Ivanoca, Zograf Levski, Vulchanoc and Volkov. The Bulgarian players. Hermione had obviously met this rabble on several occasions when she had been unwilling dragged to a social event of Viktor's. Hermione had a soft-spot for Volkov – he was so under-appreciated. Dimitrov also made a wicked martini. However, she had never liked Zograf because once when he was very drunk and Hermione was almost as drunk, he had tried to … shudder. Hermione would rather not remember. Suffice to say it was a memory that could not be wiped out with 14 martinis and was likely to last permanently.

As Hermione was brooding, a huge cheer went up from the crowd. She didn't need to look up to know that Krum had walked onto the pitch. Grudgingly hoisting herself up, Hermione stood up and clapped and cheered and screamed with everyone else. Krum looked up in her general direction and squinted. Then he waved at someone he supposed was Hermione but was actually several rows down from her and on the wrong side. The girl that Krum had waved at fainted and Hermione thought that she would need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Luckily Krum hadn't noticed and was busy getting psyched up for the game, chatting with his team mates as he mounted his broom, punching one of them playfully on the shoulder. The punch almost made his teammate (who happened to be Zograf) fall off his broom.

The commentator announced that Murphy, Brown, Outhwaite, Crawford, Mortensen, Black and Worth had walked onto the pitch and the game commenced almost immediately.


	3. Chapter Three

The game didn't last long.

"Thank goodness," thought Hermione. One of the games she'd been to had lasted 39 hours 17 minutes and 42 seconds. However fond her feelings towards Krum were, she was not really prepared to sit and stare at a game she didn't really understand for that long again. Besides, her ass went to sleep after only a couple of hours.

11 goals later (8 to Bulgaria and 3 to the Isle of White) a huge roar went up all around Hermione and she knew this was her cue to stand up and clap. Krum was circling the stadium with an almost childish look of immense happiness on his face.

Despite her constant questioning, Hermione had never figured out why Krum had caught the snitch at the Quidditch World Cup, allowing Ireland to win. All he would ever say was,

"I didn't want to make you sad," which was stupid because he didn't even know of her existence then. Hermione had long since given up trying to wrangle the truth out of him. That hadn't stopped her friends though, on the rare occasion they met:

"_So… Krum…"_ Ron had started. This had instantly sunk Hermione's heart lower than her dragon skin boots (a present from Krum's mother).

"_Vat?"_

"_Why'd you do it?"_

"_Do vat?"_

"_You know what I'm talking about…"_

"_No reeelly, I do not. Vat are you talking about?"_

It had been this point that Hermione had felt the urge to butt in to stop it getting ugly. She needn't have bothered:

"_Ron, I really don't think this is the time…" _commanded Hermione shrilly

"_Shut up rabbit face,"_ Ron had replied.

Unfortunately, Krum's grasp of English was small. His grasp of English humour (that is to say, friendly teasing and sarcasm) was much, much smaller. Infintesimatly small.

"_Vat did you say?"_

"_I said 'why'd you do it Krum?'"_

"_You called Hermy-oh-ninny a bunny vabbit. Das ist NOT NICE"_ Krum had roared.

And _that_ was why Ron's nose was now shaped the way it was. Hermione only hoped that her school and private lives would never have to mix again. There always seemed to be an alarming amount of blood involved when they did.

By now the players had returned to their changing rooms and everyone else was leaving. As Hermione stepped out of her aisle, Draco Malfoy walked straight into the back of her.

"Oh… oh… Draco… I'm dreadfully sorry… I um… didn't… um… see you there… hehe…" mumbled Hermione, suddenly overcome with a shyness that was not associated with her new personality. A shyness that she had certainly never felt before when she was talking to Malfoy. And why oh why did she have to call him Draco to his face?

Draco slicked back his hair involuntarily and smiled. Smiled. Why was he doing that? That wasn't like him at all!

"Erm.. quite alright Hermione… I mean.." "Damn…" he cursed softly under his breath, "Don't call me that Granger," Draco then attempted to stalk off haughtily. Unfortunately, he couldn't help looking back to see if Granger was still looking at him. Indeed she was. And it was as their eyes locked again that Draco heard,

"Draco! I mean… um… Malfoy."

"What?"

"Are you going to the after-game party? My… I mean our place"

"Yes. I believe father has something he wishes to discuss with Mr & Mrs Krum"

"Good."

And with that Hermione swept gracefully past him. Well, it would have been graceful had she not tripped herself up on the way down and knocked into someone else who managed to spill their drink all over a violently purple hat the woman in front happened to be wearing.

"Good?" thought Draco. What was that supposed to mean?


End file.
